adoption

When Charles and I first got married, I mentioned that I wanted to adopt one day.  He wasn't too open to the idea, and he preferred to have our own children.  After that conversation, I just prayed that if we were to adopt, that God would change Charles' heart and Charles would lead our family by bringing up the topic.

Fast forward to spring 2015.  While processing our loss of Jonathan, the idea of adoption kept popping up.  We didn't seriously discuss it, but we knew it could be an option for our family.

Over the past few months, we've seen God use families who have adopted to open our hearts to adoption.  One Sunday afternoon in October, Charles and I were eating at Chuy's when Charles asked, "What do you think about adoption for our family?" This was the first time we seriously discussed it. I also pointed out that he had come a long way from when we first got married.  It was cool to see how God answered my prayer, and Charles was leading our family in regards to adoption. 

When Charles brought up the topic, surprisingly, I was the one with an issue.  I didn't want to adopt.  I want to have my own babies.  Simple as that.  So we decided to pray separately about it.

We have been trying to continue to grow our family since May, but we haven't had much luck.  I contacted my doctor in November, and she recommended that if I still wasn't pregnant by January, we'd start on the path of infertility treatments.  For some reason, that didn't sit well with me.  I've gotten pregnant twice already, and I don't really want to do infertility treatments.  I don't think that there is anything wrong with them, but at this point in my life, I don't really feel like that's what we should do. 

Then December 9th came.  The two year anniversary of Jonathan's diagnosis. Not only was it December 9th, but that day it was officially confirmed I wasn't pregnant for that month.  Boy, that day was starting off great! 

I had a few extra minutes before I needed to leave for work, so I thought I could squeeze in a quick quiet time, so I grabbed my Jesus Calling devotional, and read the devotional for December 9th.

It was about taking risks, trusting in Jesus' plan, not living the safe and easy life, and following where He leads.  As I'm reading this, I kept hearing, "Adoption! Adoption! Adoption!" (like a flashing neon sign) - I felt the call to adopt.  And my honest reaction was:

"Oh, crap...."

I had to let go of the dream of having my own kids.  That might not be God's plan for us. 

As I am driving to work, I call Charles (which I rarely do while he's at work), and I make sure he knows I'm okay, but then I tell him, "I'm 99.9% sure we are supposed to adopt."

After his initial shock to my heavy conversation, he told me that that same morning, as he was journaling during his quiet time, he asked the Lord to give us a child.  He remembers thinking that was an odd way to phrase it, because that doesn't necessarily mean for me to be pregnant, which is how he was praying previously. 

So we came to the conclusion we are to adopt. 

The way we see it is that we have the room, means and love for a child (or children), so why not pursue adoption?  If I find out I'm pregnant in a few months down the road, we still plan on pursuing adoption. 

At this time, we'd appreciate prayer for clarity on the next steps.  We both envision local adoption.  And over the past couple of weeks, my desire to have a baby has grown strong.  So we aren't exactly sure where to go from here.   

There are two very different paths we could take.  We could go through an adoption lawyer, which would be very likely of adopting an infant, or we could go through The Call/DHS, which we could get an infant, but the timing isn't as clear as the previous option. 

And who knows, perhaps my desire for a baby doesn't mean the first child we get will be an infant.  It could be that we bring home a sibling set first, and then in a few years we bring home an infant.  There are just so many possibilities. 

Please pray for wisdom and clarity as we continue to seek God's plan for the growth of our family.

Matrix

Little over a year ago, Charles was looking at the photos on his phone and said, "I really like this picture of you. It's one of my favorites."

Now the photo wasn't anything special. Just a candid he previously took of me. 

But I instantly knew why he loved that picture even if he couldn't see why.

It was the last picture of me just minutes before our world changed forever. It was a picture of us in the waiting room just minutes before our 21 week ultrasound to find out the gender of Jonathan. 

December 9, 2013: That day will always be the day our world came crashing down.

Charles loves that picture because that girl in the picture is naive...because that girl in the picture doesn't understand tragedy...because that girl in the picture doesn't have grief and pain written all over her face.

It makes me sad that that is one of his favorite pictures because I know I will never be that girl anymore. 

It's as if my eyes have been opened, and I can't unsee what I've seen. It's like the Matrix. I now see the world for what it truly is. I see the pain, hurt and suffering. People are grieving all around me, and now I can actually see it.  

The pain and grief that has surfaced this holiday season in my community has been tremendous. To those who are grieving, hurting and suffering: two holidays down, one more to go. We will survive. We have to. 

Unfortunately we can't go back to the Matrix. We have already seen it for what it is. 

wake me up

I survived.

 

I survived Halloween year two.

 

I only had a few bitchy moments, one emotional breakdown and many thoughts of wanting to make my new profile picture me flipping everyone off all in the same day.

 

I'd like to think that I survived this first holiday of the season successfully.

 

 

 

Is it bad that I am already looking forward to January? I kinda feel like Green Day, and substituting "the holidays" for September (song: "Wake Me Up When September Ends").

 

It's true. I am so looking forward to January 1, and it's because that means the holidays are over, and (hopefully) I survived.

 

I am finished with all of my Christmas shopping already, and I think subconsciously that will help Christmas to come and go quickly.  

 

I used to love the holidays. They always seemed to go so quickly, and it made me sad. I wished it would be the Christmas all the time!  Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy the holidays still...kinda, but something is missing.

 

Someone is missing.

 

It's just different.

 

Part of me thought round two would be easier...and parts are, but overall it's still so tough.

 

I find myself stuck in the questions.

 

What would Jonathan be dressed up as for Halloween?

How much of his candy would we allow him to actually eat?

What food would he like from Thanksgiving dinner?

What would Christmas morning look like?

Would he get into his presents early?

 

Oh, I could write questions for days... There are just so many questions that will remain unanswered.

 

I'm not trying to live two parallel lives, but sometimes it's hard not to. 

I know I need to give myself grace. Especially during this holiday season. 

your grief

Dear Grieving Friend,
*a letter to my many friends going through loss and hard times

I am so sorry for your loss, pain and hurt. 

Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do to bring you the comfort you long for during this time. 

It's hurts. You hurt.

I cannot say it enough: I am sorry.

I know you feel isolated and alone, and I'm sorry. People are covering you with their prayers throughout the days and nights even if they don't mention it.

It's okay to feel numb.
It's okay to feel overwhelmed.
It's okay to be angry (even at God - He's not going anywhere).
It's okay to feel like punching someone in the face...especially those that say stupid things.

It's okay to feel exactly like you do each day, every moment.

It's okay to want to do something normal.
It's also okay to stay in bed all day.

You will have good days and bad days...and for awhile, the bad days will dominate the good ones. But when a good day does occur, try not to feel guilty.

Remember that even when you feel alone, you are loved by many. And many of those don't know what to say, but that doesn't mean they care any less.

Remember to give yourself grace. The road you are on is tough, and you are your toughest critic. Remember to be kind and patient with yourself. Take time to let your heart heal.

I hate that you are going through this. All I want to do is just hug your neck and take away your pain.

Grief sucks.
Loss sucks.
But you are stronger.

I am always here for you, and you are never alone.

Susan ❤

the shack

I'm not exactly sure where to start.

I talked with my uncle earlier this year, and while in the midst of my grief, he recommended that I read The Shack.

For those of you who don't remember, The Shack is a book that was super popular about 6-7 years ago.  It's about a father who's daughter is kidnapped and murdered (that's not a spoiler because you learn that within the first few chapters), and then the rest of the book is about his journey through grief - or his "great sadness" - with God. 

After my uncle recommended the book, I ordered it that night but I never really got around to reading it.  I was having such a hard time dealing with my own junk, I didn't really want to sit around reading about someone else's junk (even if it is fiction). 

So, I avoided reading it.

I saw my uncle at our family reunion in June this summer, and again, he recommended that I read The Shack.

After that trip, I ended up having lunch with a dear friend who has also (unfortunately) gone through the lost of a child, and at the lunch, she recommended that I read none other than The Shack.

I took this as a sign.  So, I started reading it.  To be honest, I actually listened to the audio version to get as much out of the book as possible.  I am a fast reader, which means I'm a skimmer, and I really wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything.

The book was tough to read because it felt so applicable.  The conversations that Mack was having with God or Jesus or the Holy Spirit were words that have been on the tip of my tongue for the past year and a half.

Let me stop a second.  I fully admit that The Shack is NOT scripture.  I know this.  But I also believe that God can use ANYTHING to meet us where we are at in our lives to speak to us.  Just as a song on the radio can speak to us, I whole-heartedly believe that God used this book to speak to me and help heal my broken and aching heart. 

To be completely honest, for parts of my quiet time over the past few months, I have been listening to The Shack. Again, the book is not scripture, but the book brought healing and comfort.

The conversations of doubt, anger, frustration, pain, sadness, and joy that Mack was having were powerful.  I felt (and feel) exactly like Mack.  And I'm so thankful that our God is so patient with us as we try to understand more of who He is. 

The book helped me see God as the loving God that He is. He loves us so much. Amidst my anger and questions, His love is never changing. 

I'm still processing the many layers I uncovered in this book, so I'm pretty sure this is one of many blogs about my journey reading through The Shack. 

It was such a great book to meet me where I was (and am) at.  I'll dive into it deeper next time.

Until then.

tears.

Grief sucks.

 

I know I've said that before (and it probably won't be the last time I say it), but it does.

 

It literally sucks you back to the pain that is tucked away deep within.

 

Yes, I've made progress, and I feel like the crappy days are further apart, but when the grief hits out of nowhere, it still hurts.

 

And sometimes it might hurt worse because you don't expect it.

 

We went to the Bentonville High School football game last Friday night, because one of Charles' coworkers invited us to watch his son play. It was such a great night!  The weather was the most perfect football weather ever. 

 

It's strange though, out of nowhere in the middle of the 2nd quarter, I found myself fighting tears.  Not because anything was brought up about Jonathan, not because someone asked if we have children (which is always such a fun and awkward question to answer)....there was not an obvious  reason on why I was fighting tears.  But subtly, grief was reminding me that I would never get to be the proud mama at a high school football game (I'd like to think baseball, too). 

 

This is why grief sucks.  Because it comes completely out of nowhere.  The rest of the entire game, I was in a funk, and I was so bummed...fighting tears. 

 

I hate that.  It's the unexpected. 

 

And the crappy thing is that this will just be part of life now.  That sadness will be there through random events like a high school football game.  I have learned to anticipate the milestones like the first day of Kindergarten, or when Jonathan would have turned 16, or when he would have graduated from high school....but I never would have thought I would be crying at a high school football game.

 

Again, that's one of the main reasons why grief sucks.  ....and I'm sure that there will be plenty more reasons why as I continue on this journey. 

 

Although I've made such great progress over the past month or so, when the grief hits, and the pain stings, it still is so tough.  Even though I'm doing better on a day to day basis, I still have those moments that remind me that my arms are empty.  And those moments feel like fresh wounds. 

progress

It finally hit me today.  I really have come far in my grief journey. Looking back to where I was the first few weeks after Jonathan was born, I can finally see the progress I've made in the past 498 days. 

During my last counseling session a couple weeks ago, I just sobbed the entire time.  It had been awhile since my counseling sessions had gone like that.  I felt like I had taken 12 steps backwards.  I sobbed to my counselor, asking her if I've made any progress at all.  I felt like I was back where I started on my grief journey. 

But I feel like I can finally see the progress she said I have made.

Even though I see progress, just the other night I word-vomited a text to my cousin telling her how awful I felt from the day I just experienced.

I know that there will still be days when I will be in my "funk," and I'll still feel that twinge of pain, but I finally see it that I am healing. Grief comes in waves, and sometimes the waves still knock you over, but I feel like I can stand up now in between the waves crashing around me.

 

I can tell I'm healing, but I am not healed. I'm not sure if this wound will ever heal. 

 

It doesn't help the wound to heal when another month goes by without seeing two lines on a stupid stick. 

  

I was looking back on the start of my grief journey because over the past week or so, there has been so many new wounds and losses in my community.  I tried to remember those first few weeks after Jonathan had passed, to help those around people who are hurting understand a few things they can do to help. 

 

If you know someone going through loss, here are a few things off the top of my head that really meant a lot to me.

 

* Text them. I really appreciated encouraging texts from people. Even if I didn't respond, I truly felt encouraged by their kind words.  It also is 100% okay to say that you don't know what to say. That is better than saying nothing at all.

 

* Be patient with them. There were many days I only had the capacity to be with Charles. I didn't want to see people. I couldn't afford to exert that extra energy in my other relationships outside of Charles.

 

* Offer to do something normal. About a week after Jonathan was born, and Charles went back to work, my sister picked me up to buy me some regular jeans that fit me. I could not deal emotionally wearing my maternity clothes, and I was no longer a size 8. We were only gone about an hour, but it felt so good to do something normal.

 

* Be around for the long haul. Grief is a long journey. For the first few weeks I was on autopilot. Once the weeks turned to months, and the firsts started rolling around (first Thanksgiving, first Christmas), it was those times when I needed my friends the most. The majority of people have great intentions for the first month or so, but we need people to stick it out with us in the trenches. And as previously mentioned, even if you are in the trenches with us, we might not text you back.  Each first brings a new wave of grief. 

 

* Say their child's name. This is tricky because there were (and are) times I wanted people to just mention Jonathan. But at the same time, there were days I didn't want to talk about him at all. This is where grief is so messy.  Sorry, but it just is.  You never know how you are going to feel, but it still feels nice to hear Jonathan's name mentioned.  Just follow their lead if they want to continue talking about them or not.

 

* Be aware.  Be aware of who you are with.  If you are with a group of women who are all moms, and there is a mom who has experienced loss, be aware.  It becomes extremely hard to hear all of the conversations about which formula you use or what diapers you are using.  I know that these conversations are normal things to talk about, but I just ask that you be aware.  Not only do I have nothing to contribute to the conversation, it just brings up all the pain that my arms are empty.  In addition to being aware, be okay with them never coming to a baby shower for a really long time.  I'm not sure when I'll ever attend one again.

 

* Make a meal or buy them groceries.  Meals are a wonderful way to love on someone grieving.  Offer to buy their groceries for them.  Something as simple as going to the grocery store can be so overwhelming to a person grieving.

 

Now, there isn't a 10-step plan to help a grieving friend.  And unfortunately, how a grieving mother feels can change hour by hour.  Some moments all we want to do is talk about our precious baby....other moments, that the last thing we want to do, and we just want to talk about the latest Bachelor episode. 

 

The biggest thing you can do is be patient with them.  They don't understand what they are experiencing, so don't expect them to be able to tell you what they need.  Even 498 days into my journey, although I have made progress, I still need grace from people.  The waves are still there.

Dear Chris Carrabba,

Dear Chris Carrabba,*
*and other doubting Thomases

You don't know me, and I don't know you. I mean, I know what you do, but I don't truly know who you are and your heart. 

Let me introduce myself: My name is Susan, and my husband and I live in Arkansas with our three dogs. I am also the mother of a precious little boy who died too soon after birth.

Last night, I stumbled on a video interview of you, and they asked you a question regarding faith and your music. Your response touched my heart. You talked about wanting "doubtless faith," and having the "freedom to be happy." Later in your answer, you referred to yourself as a "doubting Thomas." I'm not exactly sure when the interview was, but I'm curious if you've found that faith that you said you desired?

My faith is in Jesus, and I have a personal relationship with Him. Life can be hard, and sometimes it just plain sucks. But I agree with you, that my focus is eternity.

Even though I have this faith, and I know the ending is eternity, I still doubt and have questions. I think that's normal. My faith in Jesus doesn't make everything in my life perfect, and I am not happy all the time. I'm still human living in this tough world. 

Believing in Him doesn't make me immune to pain and suffering. 

I love Jesus, and believing what He did on the cross for me for eternity gives me hope and joy. In the midst of my pain and grief, I have hope in Him. Even in my despair, I can find my joy in Him. I know that I can face the day, and even sometimes just the next hour, because of that hope.

Again, my life is far from perfect, and it definitely hasn't gone as I planned, but I cling to my hope in Jesus. 

As I write this, I am still in the trenches of grief a year and a half later, and with that comes anger.  That anger is sometimes directed towards God. I am angry that He didn't save my son when He absolutely could have. But even though I am angry with Him, that doesn't change my hope or who He is. My anger doesn't change His relationship with me. He is still with me through it all. 

He loves me, and there's nothing I can do to change that. 

You might never actually read this, but if you do, cool. If you want to know more about Jesus or want to share your story, the door is open. 

Know that you are being prayed for.

-Susan

empty

My tank is empty.

Okay, it's not empty, but it's probably 1/4 full.

The fullness of my tank depends on the day.

This past weekend was a busy one. This introvert is worn out. This grieving introvert is exhausted.

One thing my counselor told me right at the start of my journey is that my daily normal capacity is greatly reduced because of the grief.  The amount of cushion I normally have isn't there. That barrier is gone, and the rawness of grief is left.  This creates my short fuse, my tiredness or anything else emotional since my filters are thin.

I read a blog somewhere that talked about how much introverts hate small talk, and then how the grieving introvert hates is that much more. Small talk just feels so surface.  It's hard to talk about how I'm doing, over and over again. I KNOW the people who ask care about me. It's nothing against them, but it's just a reality for this introvert with little cushion. It's a hard balance because I really do care about the people I saw this weekend, so I want to talk to them....but it's exhausting.

The strange thing is that I want to talk about Jonathan and how I'm doing, and at the same time I don't want to talk about it all. I feel like this 100% of the time (I told you it's craziness!). I want people to bring it up, but then I don't even want to go there. Part of it is a pride thing. I want people to acknowledge the hardship I've been through and how strong I am. Yep, human nature is so selfish and twisted.  Then the other part of me doesn't want people to bring up Jonathan because it's such a private thing that I don't want to share my heart and pain.  He's mine, and I'm not sharing.

As I've said before, grief is so messy.  And healing is messy.

One thing I need to remember is that this is not about me. Charles and I prayed when we first found out we were pregnant with Jonathan that God would use our child to the best of His glory, and that He will give us our child for however long He allowed - for days or 99 years..... Little did we know when we were praying that. But again, we prayed the same thing before we miscarried in February.

It's not about me.  Even if I feel like I'm running on fumes, I can't sit around and wait until my tank is full before I bless other or pour into others. God can use even a drop of willingness.

Our pastor told me that sometimes we don't have to wait to be healed to help others. We can recycle our pain to help others in need. We just need to get past our selfishness, and remember it's not about us.

This can be easier said than done, especially will little cushion.

But it's not about me.

crazy.

I feel crazy.  I often wonder if I need to be on meds.

Grief can make you feel like you are absolutely losing your mind.

I know that I am my hardest critic, and when it comes to grief, that hasn't changed.  I feel like I should be feeling better than I actually do.  Sometimes I think I am stuck, and I can't figure out what I need to do get better.  Do I need more time?  Or is this what my life is now?  What is the truth? 

Grief is messy.  That's one truth.

I know I need to cut myself some slack, and give myself grace when it comes to feeling like I am stuck in my grief.  I just want to make sure I do things the right way, and there is no right way.  I want to check grief off my list.

I had a great conversation this weekend, and I was reminded that I am the one in control of my behaviors.  I've been chewing on this thought for the past few days.  I am in control of how I react to the actions before me.  And this is true with my journey with Jonathan.  But part of me can't fully wrap my mind around the truth that I am in control of all my behaviors.  The heart and the mind don't always line up.  I can tell myself the truth, and know something, but sometimes I feel like my heart just aches, the pain takes over, and the emotions are out of control.  I'm human.

I do want to be happier...most of the time.  I know this sounds awful, but there is a part of me that almost clings to the pain because it's part of the connection I have with Jonathan.  Oh, I hear how messed up that sounds.  With each passing day, it just reminds me that it is longer and longer since I last held him in my arms.  I know that Jonathan isn't the pain, but it's still a connection.

Granted, the flip side is that with each day, we are closer to eternity, where we will be together forever.  

See, that's where the craziness comes to play.  So many thoughts bombard me, contradicting themselves.

Another thing I took away from the weekend conversation is that I can choose to be happy.   I can make decisions to help me become happier.  It could be taking a spin class, or it could be getting coffee with some friends, or it could be knowing my own limits and saying "no" to a gathering.  

I want to feel better, but part of me wonders what I am waiting for.  Is this it?  Is what I feel on a daily basis the new-normal?  If it is, then perhaps I need to pull myself up and power through.  

Grief is messy and sucks.

it's complicated

My relationship with God is interesting and complicated.

I definitely feel like it's changed over the past 19 months. 

Even though I feel like my relationship changes, He is constantly the same.

As previously mentioned, I have been angry and I am angry with God.  My anger stems from me feeling like He let me down with Jonathan dying.  I know that He could have saved him and given us a miracle.  But that isn't what happened.  I struggle with finding joy in Him allowing my son to die.  I know that God has been and is 100% in control, but that doesn't take the pain away.  I'm still human.  I'm still a hurting mom. 

But that doesn't mean that I am not comforted by Him or that I don't see His hand in things.  His strength is the ONLY thing that has helped me to survive.  He is my HOPE (Jer. 29:11).

I have also struggled with doing the "right" thing and have a consistent quiet time with God.  If I'm a "good, little Christian girl," I will have a daily quiet time.  I know that I am not saved by works, but part of me feels like I need to do this still.  It's a daily task I need to check off my list.  But let me be honest.  I actually read my Bible for the first time this week in the last 19 months...and that is a hard sentence to type out and admit. 

One main reason I didn't open my Bible is because it hurt too much.  I am already dealing with my grief in the normal activities of life, but to choose to sit in silence and sit in my pain was too much to handle.  I have been in survival mode, and I honestly don't think I could handle more pain.  I didn't want to go there.

I knew (and know) that God is faithful.  When I think of my relationship with God, I picture Him patiently sitting next to me just waiting for me.  I know He is there.  He's just been waiting on me. 

We used to sing a song in youth group called: "If I Could Just Sit With You" -- and this is exactly how I feel my relationship with God is like.  Here's the chorus:

"If I could just sit with You a while, if You could just hold me
Nothing could touch me though I'm wounded, though I die
If I could just sit with You a while, I need You to hold me
Moment by moment, 'till forever passes by"

I'm wounded, and He's just sitting here with me.  He's not going anywhere, and that's okay.  He's just waiting on me as I'm healing. 

Now that I have cracked open my Bible, I am not saying that I've finally healed....but I am slowly making progress.  I don't think I will ever be 100% healed from losing Jonathan, but I am trying to figure out my new normal.  God is faithful as I figure this out, and He'll continue to show me His plans for me.  I can't wait to see how He plans to use Jonathan's story.  I've been able to see glimpses here and there of Him already using my son, and that brings me so much joy. 

God is faithful.  He has been and will continue to sit with me as I continue on my path of grief.

sorry, not sorry

I don't like people.

Okay, not really, but sometimes it feels like this. 

Even before everything with Jonathan, I was an introvert. I am truly a homebody.  I could be perfectly content with not seeing anyone for a day, a few days, a week....okay, perhaps not a week, but maybe. 

In addition to being an introvert, I apologize a lot.  I have noticed that it's second nature for me to apologize a lot for things I don't need to apologize for.  I'm the person who has apologized to a stranger who bumped into me at the grocery store.

One thing I've realized over this past year is that life is too short.  Because of this, I am learning to find my voice and be okay with actually letting people know my opinion.  I'm not a pushover, but I am a people pleaser.  I like people to be happy.  And I've trained my mind to think that people will be happy if they always hear what they want.  But in the end, it's really not fair to them or to me. 

I am becoming okay with telling people no and not apologizing for it.  This is okay.  It's okay to tell people the truth.  Now, I'm not going to be rude or mean.  I need to tell the truth in love.  There's a difference between being blunt and truthful.   

I have learned with my new found honesty that if I don't want to go to a social gathering because I'm in a funk or because it will be tough with all the babies and baby-talk, I don't have to go and I don't have to apologize for it.  Sorry, not sorry.

One complicated thing while grieving is friendships.  People will surprise you because some friendships actually won't there for you, and then there are people who you hardly know that become some of your best friends while you grieve.  So on top of grieving your loss, you sometimes end up grieving the loss of friendships. 

Friendships change anyway, but I think grief just adds complication...which grief is good at doing in any situation.  We aren't all going to be best friends, and we have to be okay with that. 

I've found that mothers who have had child-loss(es) and I just have this ultimate and unfortunate bond.  For example, I have a friend who I have never met face to face that actually knows my heart and pain better than friendships I've had for years. 

Life can be complicated, but navigating through life while grieving is a whole new ball game.  I'm learning a lot on this journey, and I am feel like I am becoming a better me through it all...or at least trying to become a better me.  Grief strips away so many filters and leave you with the nitty-gritty.  I feel like there is nothing to hide behind while grieving.  It leaves you raw, and I don't have to apologize for it.

I'm not okay, and that's okay

I'm not okay, and I have to be okay with that. 

It's a daily battle to figure out my new world.  It's tough and exhausting at times.  One day I feel like I am actually doing okay, and then something out of the blue occurs, and I am brought back to the reality that I'm not okay. 
 
I feel like my grief comes like waves.  Sometimes the waves are just lapping at my ankles, and I am aware that they are there.  Sometimes the waves are huge, and I am knocked on my ass from it's force.  The waves are unpredictable. 

I am not okay, and because of this, I need to take sometime for my heart to heal.  This Wednesday will be my last day at my current job.  I talked to my principal last week about not returning this fall.  This was one of the hardest decisions I've made, but I do feel that this is God's plan for me.  I do not know what the future holds, but I am looking forward to healing my heart.  I know that God will reveal His next plan for me when He's ready.  I am a big planner, so making this decision with zero back-up plans is tough, but it's where I need to be.

I am going to take this "sabbatical" and heal.  I know this is the best choice, but I will miss my wonderful Walker family.  They have been such a huge support over the past two years, and I feel like I am letting everyone down by not returning this fall.  I will miss seeing all my teachers and kiddos on a daily basis. 

In regards to what is next for me, I'm 100% not sure.  I might sub a few days during the week this fall, I might get involved in some ministry, I might write a book...  I feel like the options are endless, which is why Charles has challenged me to wait to plan anything until August.  This summer, I am taking this time to listen to God. 

I just need to be and heal. 

I need to be okay with not being okay.

eff it

I am angry. 

I have a lot of anger.

And then I am angry about my anger.

I feel like of all of the stages of grief, anger is the one that I have been dealing with the longest.  I feel stuck.  I thought that once I experienced all of the "firsts" (first holidays, birthday, etc.), I would feel better and not be as angry.  But that actually isn't the case, and I still have a lot of anger. 

I am angry Jonathan isn't here. 
I am angry that I don't have a baby.
I am angry that I don't know when I'll have a baby again.
I am angry that everyone and their dog is pregnant or just had a baby.
I am angry that people don't understand (but also thankful they don't get it).
I am angry that I have to figure out my "new" normal.
I am angry I still have 30lbs of baby weight to lose.
I am angry that I am an emotional eater.
I am angry I still can't wear my wedding rings.
I am angry at God.
I am angry at people on Facebook.
I am angry that I feel so isolated.
I am angry that I hurt so bad.

I am angry.

I could honestly sit here and just continue this list for miles.  There are a lot of things that I am angry at.  Don't get me wrong, I also have joy and happiness in my life.  But grief is just complicated, and my emotions are all over the place all the time.  Charles often reminds me though that "grief and joy are not mutually exclusive."  I know that I have a ton of blessings in my life, but that doesn't make the anger and pain go away.  The complicatedness of grief is what makes me feel like I am going crazy on a day to day basis. 

One thing that I have done to cope with my anger is cuss.  Yep, as juvenile as that sounds, it does help.  If it's between cussing or punching someone in the face, and I think cussing is the better choice of the two. 

If a baby commercial or a pregnancy test commercial comes on while watching tv, I often find myself just sitting there flipping the tv off.  Yep, that's a proud moment.  There are many days that I have to hold myself back and refrain from changing my Facebook profile picture to me flipping everyone off. 

One of my friends (who has gone through her own horrific loss of a child) and I went on a rant around the holidays about how we are dealing with our grief.  We came up with a slogan: "Eff It."  By the end of the week, I had designed a shirt, and she cross-stitched a pillow for herself.  When my anger and pain becomes so extreme, sometimes the only thing to describe how I feel is: "Eff It."   

Even that cat mirrors how pissed off I am at times.  I truly love this shirt. 

One thing that really gets me fired up is when people come up to me and say the phrase, "Oh, I understand..."  And no matter what the rest of their statement is, I can feel myself already getting angry.  This is the WORST phrase to hear.  Unless your only child died four hours after he was born in your arms, you had a miscarriage ten months later which required you to have not one, but TWO D&C's, you don't understand.  And the people who do "get it" when it comes to dealing with grief, are the ones that are the first to say that they don't get it.  Honestly, sometimes Charles doesn't even get it.  Even though Jonathan was our son, our individual journey through grief is different. 

All loss is hard, and the variations of loss cannot be measured.  Grief is heart-wrenching no matter what your loss is that you face. Grief just plain SUCKS.  While we are grieving, we don't need for people to try to find some common thread.  Sometimes you just need a hug, or chocolate, or for someone to say that it really sucks what you are going through.  And sometimes, "eff it" is the best way to sum it all up.

unfiltered

I was challenged yesterday by my counselor to write.

 

While getting all worked up about where I am in my grief, she suggested that I write. I should write honest and unfiltered words.

 

Grief is something that we don't often talk about. I'm not saying I am an expert on grief by any means, but I have had my share of loss over the past couple of years. The challenge for me with this blog will be to write about my feelings honesty and actually share where I am. I shouldn't filter my words or thoughts based on what others may think about me. Doing this will be tough, but I am hoping my honesty might resonate with someone going through their own journey of grief, loss or other suckiness.

 

With being unfiltered, I need to go ahead and apologize to my mother that I might say words she doesn't approve of. I can already hear her "tsk'ing" in my head. My goal here is not trying to ruffle feathers or hurt people. I just want to be real on where I am at, and perhaps I can help others in sharing my story, my hurt and my broken heart.

 

Being transparent is hard for me because I have always felt like I need to be the "good little Christian girl" who always does the things expected of her. I am 100% a people pleaser, but where I am on my journey, I can't please everyone. Now, before you start worrying about me, I'm not going to do anything radical and go off the deep end or anything. I am just going to write honestly about how I am feeling and where I am.

 

Most of you know my story about how I lost my son one year, one month and 18 days ago shortly after he was born. This loss has turned my world upside down. It has been absolute hell in trying to figure out how to function and cope with my new normal. This blog is going to be messy. But perhaps this will be therapeutic for me and for others.

 

Bottom line, grief sucks.